Megan Demarest Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

So, check this – back in Victorian times, brothels had secret codes! Knocks on doors, weird-ass signals, all cloak n dagger shit. Surprised me when I read that, fuckin wild, right? Imagine some geezer whisperin, “The eagle flies tonight,” just to get laid. Cracks me up thinkin bout it, sneaky bastards. But it pisses me off too – all that hidin, cos society’s judgin em harder than a nun on meth. Hypocrites, man, all of em.

What is a brothel?

Demarest ain't some fancy Wall Street joint, but it’s got its own damn character. Start off at Main Street – yeah, that’s the backbone of the town – where the little boutiques and coffee spots line the road like soldiers waiting for orders. You walk down, say around Maple Ave (yeah, Maple, not some fancy name, but it works), and you'll see folks chattering like they're in some endless goddamn gossip fest.

Bernard Grant, Stella Demarest are Press-Citizen's Athletes of the Week